Journal of a Living Lady #201

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

This is my 201^st column of Journal of a Living Lady which began before the turn of the century as Journal of a Dying Lady. For those who are new to the area, Journal of a Living Lady is now a bi-weekly chronicle of my life. Much has happened since the recurrence of my breast cancer in 1997 following an uneventful twelve year remission. If you’d like the full story, check out the book, Journal of a Living Lady, at the library, Ingles in Blairsville, Holabird House, Amazon.com, or any Sentinel office. It is also available at www.angelfire.com/ga3/livinglady.

 

The stubborn cancer eventually spread to my lungs, lymph glands, and bones.  Three doctors confirmed my terminal diagnosis. Chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery followed. I even spent time in hospice. The goal, at that time, was comfort and then death with dignity. Phooey, I said after a few months. This dying stuff wasn’t for me...yet.

 

Skip forward many, many months. I am continually on a four-week treatment cycle of Aredia/Faslodex. It is holding the cancer steady and given me some quality time.

 

In spite of the cancer, Buddy, and I recently returned from an adventurous trip to the Holy Land thanks to a generous reader. The fact that both Buddy and I had stamina and energy that neither of us has experienced in quite a while confirmed that several faithful friends were praying for us on this trip. Thank you.

 

I take up where I promised after my last column. However, I must throw in two new issues in my life. Not a week after returning to our home in the mountains, I mistepped on a curb, fell spread eagle, and fractured my ankle. It could have been a hip and it could have happened in Israel, neither good scenarios.

 

The other news, which I will write about later, is that my only sister, Sunnie Anne, age 41, who lives near Memphis, will be getting married for the first time on August 9^th.  She was born as I graduated from high school. Our parents and grandparents are now deceased. Not only will I be the Matron of Honor, I will be playing the role of Mother of the Bride.

 

Hmm. Just a year ago this month, I was mother of the groom. Yes, Charlie and Tori are celebrating their first wedding anniversary on the 29^th.  Bobby and Ginger had their second child this spring. Look what I would have missed if I had let cancer have the last word so soon.

 

While we were at the airport awaiting the plane that would take us to Tel Aviv, Israel, we stopped in a busy little café near the gate. We were too excited to eat much. The waitress asked if we wanted a “to go” box to take home. Her idea struck us funny and we laughed until we were red in the face. Poor girl. She had no idea where we were headed and how long it would be before we saw home again. In retrospect, we should have taken her up on the “to-go” box. That was a long flight segment, almost eleven hours. Ever try to eat a six-course meal served on little trays with your elbows tucked under your arm pits? Orthodox Jews do not eat meat and milk together, or pork, nor many other foods we are accustomed to. This plane was El Al, a Jewish-operated airline, and it was packed with Ascetic Jews. Buddy and I would have loved to have had southern fried chicken with milk gravy. Instead, we were served dead fish, cucumbers and tomatoes, on yeast-free bread.

 

It was early into our journey. Buddy and I were just getting acquainted with Jewish customs which we purposefully respected. This was the eve of Shabbat, Friday, a very holy days for the Ascetic Jews. We learned to recognize this sect of Jews by their boisterousness, black suits, black smoke-pipe hats, and the one long curl on the side of the male faces.

 

Each time we got up from our plane seat, we discovered every corner of the plane, plus the restrooms, taken by a Jewish men who prayed with a prayer book. As the men communed, they bent forward in a continuous half-bow motion while facing the fuselage of the airplane. This group practices prayer several times a day, apparently even when thirty-five thousand feet in the air. Well, maybe especially when thirty-five thousand feet above ground. Not a bad idea for us Gentiles either.

 

Shalom, ya’ll. To be continued.

nancyk@alltel.net